


When Friends Are Trees

by knaveofmogadore



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Minor Character Death, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Slow Burn, like really slow burn, slow burn so slow you pray for death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 22:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaveofmogadore/pseuds/knaveofmogadore
Summary: In Poseidon's palace on the edge of the sea, there is a garden. In that garden is a dryad, by now over a century old. Perseus' family moves to the castle by the sea to escape his mother's death, so what of the rest of his life?[Fantasy/Dryad percabeth au]Currently: Completed, in original condition.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that while I had transferred most of my Lorien Legacies stuff here, there were still old PJO fics sitting in my drafts box and drowning on tumblr. This was always one of my favourites, so I thought I'd back it up to a permanent home. This was written for the first mini big bang, so a few years ago now! I'm not gonna edit it or rewrite it. It's not like I think I can't do better, I just don't think I can put as much love into it a second time. Enjoy <3

**Athena/b >**

**_The olive tree sapling was planted in the center spot of the garden, meant to be the first thing thing that grabbed your attention. The pond was already in construction, it was being dug even as I peered out the library windows to the garden outside. Even though the palace was surrounded by flowering, walled gardens just like this one, I could tell even now that this plot would be a favorite in the years to come. Why shouldn’t it be? My daughter and her tree will grow as beautiful together as they would have separately, something I know even though Annabeth will never get that chance._ **

**_I could see the ocean over the garden wall, and there wasn’t a single place in this whole damned castle that you couldn’t hear the swell and crash of the water below. The heavy green drapes on the library’s patio doors were open for once. They were usually drawn in order to protect the books sitting on these dark wood shelves from harsh sunlight and sea-salt air. This entire room is made of green marble, excluding the stone floor you could barely see. They’d covered most of it up with plush, green carpets, as if that would make the room any warmer._ **

**_I could still hear my daughter’s laughter as she ran between the columns, playing and burying her bare feet in the rugs whenever she stopped. When she was calm enough to read Annabeth would spend hours laying on the floor with a book in front of her face. That library was my daughter’s favorite room in the entire palace, and it was only fitting that she would be buried right next to it. No, not buried, /tied to the earth/. My daughter and her body were bound to that tree, and may hell come upon this cursed land if she is ever harmed._ **


	2. Seven Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

I guess you could say that meeting Annabeth was fate or destiny or whatever, but me? To me, it just never seemed that way. It was more like an accident, or a _‘wait shit I really shouldn’t have done that’_ kind of thing. Looking back, I’m pretty glad I didn’t listen to dad. If I had, Annabeth would never have...well, I’ll get to that. Lets start from the beginning before this gets confusing for you. 

 

I was seven when dad finally moved us from the palace at Amarie to the seaside one at Montauk, after my mom passed. Dad said it would be good for me and Tyson, The fresh sea air and the diplomats coming and going like the tide I can see out of my window every morning. It was bigger, too, while our home at Amarie was about the size of a market place, this one was _far_ larger than that, more of the size of a small field. I remember being driven up to it for the first time like it was just a few days ago, the sense of wonder and a strange mix of fear I felt. 

I remember Tyson, four years old and out like a light in the seat next to me, head on the side of the carriage and a pillow cradled like a teddy bear in his lap. Dad seemed a little out of it, looking out the window with a sad expression. He caught my eye and smiled when we pulled up, then pointed outside. 

“Look, Percy. It makes a good first impression.” He had said. 

I leaned and looked out the window as he sat back into his seat. He was right, I’ll say that even now. It was built with the blue-grey stone that is found up and down the coast, the rock gleaming and sparkling. The shine is from the salt, which sticks to the castle on windy days. It stood between the town and the sea, like a wall against invaders. It was as elegant as it was imposing, with spires on each corner and one in the center, our nation’s flag on each. It didn’t have a moat, and I don’t think it’s ever needed one either. This castle was built for war, but it’s never been used in one.

The carriage stopped, and I tried to wake Tyson. He wouldn’t keep his eyes opened, so dad got a guard to carry him up to his room for us. Up close, I could see shells stuck into the castle’s walls, buried in the rocks. The windows were tall, leading all the way up the great hall on the right and left sides as you walked inside. Looking up, you could see that there were trinkets hanging from the arches stretching across the high ceiling throughout the main rooms of this place. 

“For luck,” Dad tells me when he catches me staring at a necklace hanging in the hall leading to the throne room. 

My favorite has always been the conch shell hanging above the library’s door, Tyson hung that one. When we join whatever diplomats had been there at the time for dinner that night, (the faces always change, sorry I can’t remember exactly who they were), Dad points out a pair of mollusc shells and tells me the story of how mom convinced him to let her use him as a step stool so she could get to the top of her throne to hang them up. Tyson wouldn’t stop laughing at that one. I guess now would be the time to mention that that was the night Tyson met Ella, the daughter of a fairly wealthy trader, but that didn’t seem that important to me at the time. 

There was a storm that first night. I’m guessing that’s why I didn’t see her from the window then, Annabeth hates storms. Who’s Annabeth? Just wait, I’m getting to her. Both me and Tyson had rooms on the second floor, his with a window facing the town, and mine with a window showing the garden, and farther out the seas, if I stood on top of the window seat. I couldn’t see much of anything then, though, except for rain and the occasional flash of lightning. 

I guess I’ll focus more on my room then. It, like everything else in this place, was built using the stones that cover the seashore along the entire coast. The sheets were sea-foam blue, the carpet covering the stone floor was azure blue, and most of the furniture was made with thick, dark brown oak from further inland, including the four poster bed and the wardrobe filled with blankets and robes meant for someone twice my size. 

The only exception was the trunk at the foot of the bed, which was made from lighter pine. It was filled with the stuff I had brought with me from my former home. I popped the lid and lifted out my mom’s last gift to me, a small blue fish she’d knitted herself. It was then that the storm outside let loose a thunder clap worthy of the gods, and Tyson’s scream could be heard from the other side of the castle. I counted two minutes before I heard him banging on my door to let him in.

By the time he got to me, Tyson was 52 inches and sixty pounds of toddler panic. His big brown eyes were full of tears, his cheeks were red from crying and his hair was still sticking up in some pretty bad bed head. The second I opened the door he held his chubby arms out to me. I picked him up, swung him around into the room, and kicked the door closed just as another bang of thunder echoed across the castle walls. 

“Someone’s attacking us!” He wailed, in hysterics the way little kids can get. 

Thunder crashed again, rattling the windows and sounding like cannon fire. I could see why he would think that. Before I figured that out, Tyson tackled me to the ground. It’s not that he meant to knock me flat, he was just trying to jump into my arms. The problem was at this point he was already too heavy for me to hold. 

“Tyson, calm down, you’re crushing me!” I tried to get him off me, but he wasn’t budging, just hugging my waist as hard as he could. I settled for pushing him into my lap so I could sit up at least. 

“I want mom!” He whimpered into my chest. 

Wrapping my arms around my little brother, I copied that sentiment. I wanted mom too, but mom wasn’t here anymore. Mom wasn’t anywhere anymore. 

The great thing about Tyson is that all he really needs is a little bit of comfort and he’s ok. After a few minutes of sitting there hugging him, he was out like a light. I’m not going to describe to you the grunting and heaving I had to do to get him into my bed, just know that it was hard. 

The next morning, I wake up still in yesterday’s clothes, being kicked to death by Tyson. It’s amazing how one small kid could take all of the blankets on a king size bed. I rolled out of bed and forced myself to get dressed for the day, leaving Tyson in bed. The thing about Tyson is that if he doesn’t wake himself up, then he won’t wake up at all. 

I pulled another set of black trousers out of the brown box, then a black undershirt and a blue waistcoat with waves embroidered on it. Getting dressed in the morning was always a hassle, everything had too many buttons and too small holes. I finally got to the point where I could pull on my black boots and leave my room.

….

Most hallways in the palace, excluding servant hallways, had tapestries and paintings showing stories from our kingdom’s past. Most of them I skipped over, like the hunts and hounds from some of my grandfather’s and great uncle’s. Dad has told me those stories enough already. 

I paused when I passed a painting I’ve never seen before. It showed a scene with a young blond girl in a four poster bed, the thin green curtains drawn, the sheets drawn up to her chin. Her face was peaceful, sleeping, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Another blond, a woman, kneeled next to the bed, with her back to the painter so that all I could see was her olive green dress around her feet and curls spilling down her back. She was holding the little girl’s hand. The only other thing in the picture that wan’t hazily colored were the back windows, the black drapes were drawn closed. I remembered drapes just like that being hung in my mother’s room. 

I moved along before I was late for breakfast again, my small boots clicking against the stone tiles. I ignored the rest of them, so that I wouldn’t stop again. Many of the doorways here had those good luck charms hanging from them, and the dining room was no exception with a black rock hanging from the main entrance, and the door to the kitchens. Breakfast itself was boring, the only thing even worth mentioning was another view into the gardens from the blue draped windows. Ambassadors and courtiers gossiped, and Dad left them to it as he led me out after I finished. 

Dad gave me a basic tour of the place, showing me how to get to the drawing room and the ballroom and the library. From the library he opened one of the many entrances to the gardens and led through the path there. Montauk is, for the most part, a ‘city built on trade and diplomacy’ as Dad always like to tell me. 

“A king must know his castle.” he told me as we walked past trees from the four corners of the world, even an olive tree from across the sea. It stood as a centerpiece in the center of the library patio. Some of that porous sea stone was set in a circle around it, surrounding a plot of moss and grass maybe fifteen feet across. The tree itself grew in the vague shape of a young woman, curved and elegant with the branches reaching skyward.

“It was a gift,” he says when he sees what caught my eye, “from the kingdom of Athens celebrating the signing of the trade treaty a century back. The pond,” he pointed so I could see the shallow pool close to the seaside wall, surrounded by low-growing weeds and flowers and more porous stone, “came with it.” 

Dad led me around the rest of the palace, through the rest of the gardens, the armory, and even the room where a lot of the trade agreements are signed. That tree though, it stayed stuck in my head all day. If you asked me now, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you what was so great about it, or even what made it seem better than the guards fighting each other in the courtyard. Tyson loved those, by the way. 

…..

Three weeks later I finally got up the nerve to inspect the tree again. Do you ever do something and immediately know that you did something you’re not supposed to do, even if no one told you not to do it? Sneaking into the garden that morning felt like that. I mean, I’m a prince. I was allowed to be out of my bed whenever I wanted, go wherever I wanted, and do whatever I felt like doing. Yet, this still felt like I was invading someone’s privacy. As it turned out, I was.

Usually, I bring Tyson along on ‘they never told me not to do this but I should know by now’ stuff, but he was too loud for this early in the morning. I dressed in riding clothes with no shoes, so that I didn’t make noise against the tile. That morning was clammy, and in some places the fog seemed through the old windows. My toes were frozen by the time I got to the library. I dug them into the carpet to warm them, dragging them across the carpet on my way to the bay doors in the hopes that the friction would put some feeling back into them.

I gave up on it and stepped outside, instantly getting my feet both cold and wet. The fog had gathered in the garden, probably getting trapped by the wall. It curled around my legs and I walked forward, almost like it was pulling me in. In the light of the early morning, the entire place had a green tinge to it, including the tree, and the stones set around it seemed to glow. The fog surrounded the pond and all the plants around it so thickly that I could barely see the outline of it. 

I crossed the patio until I came to the edge of the stone circle, and I hesitated. It was stupid, I know, but it felt like I was intruding in on someone’s personal space. I held my breath, stepped over the line, walked up to the tree and...nothing happened. I let it out with a puff of fog. My feet paced my around the trunk, almost without my permission. I looked up into the branches as I passed and squinted, trying to figure out what it was about the tree that made me feel so weird. 

My hand pressed against the trunk and pushed. The tree didn’t even wobble. The bark didn’t give or crumble. I tried shaking it but it didn’t budge. Throughout all of this, a creeping ‘you’re being watched’ feeling started tingling on the back of my neck. It finally got to the point where couldn’t ignore it anymore and I turned around. I was scared that it was Dad, coming to scold me for disrespecting the tree and getting up at the crack of dawn. It wasn’t exactly my Dad glaring daggers at the back of my neck. 

I guess if I had been older at the time I would have gone on and on about how beautiful she was, how the fog wrapped around her pale waist and how the curls in her blonde hair weren’t even tamed by the water dripping down them. At the time, she was more terrifying than anything else. Her pink lips were pursed in a frown, her arms were crossed protectively over her bare chest. She was still up to her waist in the pond, I’m guessing she probably wasn’t dressed. Her eyes were the color of a thunderstorm, and they were narrowed at me. I did the only rational thing in response and ran back to my bed in a panic.


	3. Ten Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

In the years to come, going back to that garden became a habit. So did getting up earlier, pestering the knights to teach me how to fight, combing the library trying to figure out what she was, and religiously checking my height when Tyson shot passed me. I was twelve years old before she finally let me see her again. 

It wasn’t morning this time, but a warm summer dusk. The tide was calm, the garden was warmed by the setting sun, and Tyson was running around somewhere, probably in the armory. The sunset was one of those rare quiet minutes in my day that I could spend away from everyone else. Can you guess where I usually spent it? Of course you can, what else did I have to do? 

The only one in the library was Michael..something, one of the emissaries from that island between us and Athens that I can neither pronounce nor remember the name of, ever. It sounds like something between a grunt and a sneeze. He nodded at me as I walked by then went back to his book, ignoring me as usual as I walked out into the garden. 

Like always, I dropped my boots on the edge of the stone patio and padded my way over to the sea wall, then hoisted myself up to sit on it so I could get a better view. I didn’t hear her come up next to me, one moment I was alone, then I turn my head to the right and there’s a woman in a green dress standing next to me. I’d love to say that something smooth slipped out of my mouth, but the most I did was jump back and almost fall off the wall. I might have squeaked out ‘you!’, but I don’t remember. 

She smirked at me and snorted. Her hair wasn’t wet this time, and the blond curls bounced down to her waist. Her eyes were more of a rocky grey that day, more amused than angry for once. Her dress looked like moss had grown in the form of a slip. The filmy fabric barely reached her knees. Other than her dress it didn’t look like she was wearing anything. Her hand reached toward me and for a second I was afraid she would slap me. Instead she took my hand and firmly shook it. 

“Annabeth, otherwise known as the tree you tried to vandalize.”

My eyes whipped toward the olive tree still standing in the middle of the garden. Then they turned back to the young woman still holding my hand. Her eyebrows were raised and her mouth was quirked into an amused smile. I scooted farther away from her on the wall, I didn’t like the look in her eyes. Annabeth looked like one of the court ladies that were always waiting for someone to slip with their words. She dropped my hand.

“Uhhh.” Yeah, I know, clever words. It was even worse then as it came out of my dry mouth in a croak. 

Annabeth snickered. “Not good with words huh? That’s ok, I’m here for that. You found me, so now I’m here to advise you.”

“What does that mean?”

Stupid question? Maybe, but luckily for me Annabeth has a lot more patience than I’ve given her credit for. She explained for a while, telling me about traditions and how she’s served other kings before me. She’s the palace adviser, here for an hour at dawn and dusk for anything we may need help with. Now that’d I found her, she wouldn’t appear for my father anymore. I felt a little bad about that, but what could I do?

As the hour went on, Annabeth started to squirm. Her face looked more and more like someone put a few tacks where she was sitting. When it was five minutes to the hour Annabeth excused herself and left for her tree, leaving me to figure all of this out on my own.


	4. Fourteen Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

It’s been four years. Four years of courtesans and trade agreements and meeting other royalty. Several years of getting to know other princes, princesses, royals of indistinguishable gender and...and Annabeth. I learned over time that she only shows up for an hour at the start and end of each day. People often whispered about me getting up at odd hours but I barely cared, I had other friends I needed to worry about.

It turns out that Annabeth and I have a lot in common. We were both raised by royalty, both of us love music and the ocean and besting someone else in a fight. It surprised me that a lady as delicate looking as Annie could sword fight, but she was one of my best teachers. Actually, she was my _greatest_ teacher, since she was the only one who taught me in a way I could understand.

She was also one of the few people who would listen to me ramble on and on, everyone but Tyson would get annoyed when I talked too much. Today I had a few more stories to tell her, and I wanted to get there early. As usual, the castle was chilled in the early morning. Fog clung to the scratched up glass windows and rolled over the lawn.

I smiled when I opened the library doors and Annabeth was there, at the base of her tree, with a book in her lap. She didn’t look up when I sat next to her, but that was fine. I waited until she finished whatever chapter she was on before I started talking. Annabeth looked up and smiled, and even snorted every once in awhile. This was the great thing about Annabeth, she always listened no matter what.

I noticed she was starting to look uncomfortable before our hour was up, like she was sitting on pins and needles. That usually meant that it was almost time for her to go back into her tree. 

“Wait, Annie, before you go I have a question.” 

She shrugged before saying, “Ask away, that’s what I’m here for.”

Ok, awkward question-I’ve-always-wondered-about time. “Why do you always wear the same dress?”

Annabeth blinked for a second, dumbstruck I guess. Then she laughed her special laugh that would make any duchess’ toes curl. It was high, and loud, and just a little bit un-ladylike. I loved it.

“Leave it to you to ask something like that, Percy.” She said, shaking her head.

“That’s not an answer though!” I was laughing too.

“The tree just won’t let me wear anything different. It’s my uniform I guess.” 

I nodded in understanding. Annabeth was leaning against the old olive tree, but before she slipped back into it something else she’d said earlier made me think of another question. Back then I regretted it the second it left my mouth, but now I’m glad I asked.

“You weren’t born here, were you?”

Annabeth froze, then her face darkened and I got scared. On rare occasions Annabeth would yell at me, and the way her mouth pinched and her eyes narrowed, that’s what she looked like when she did it. She surprised me by not yelling, but sighing instead. Her voice was cold, but not unkind.

“Tomorrow Percy, that explanation deserves more time.”

With that, she was gone, and I was left to brush the dirt off the seat of my pants and go get dressed in something ‘proper’.

 

When I came back that night, I hadn’t expected Annabeth to be out at all, much less _waiting_ for me. The way she was staring out at the ocean made me feel guilty, but I don’t know why. All the same, I suddenly felt naked when she turned to me, in my black trousers and button up. I hadn’t changed from sword practice. 

She beckoned me over and I sat on the wall next to where she was standing. Annabeth was so far into her own head, looking out across the sea, that I didn’t think much of it when I grabbed her hand to rouse her. She cleared her throat and apologized, but didn’t let go of my hand. Her voice was surprisingly level when she began to tell me her story.

“A long time ago, about a century now, I came over with my mother to the place. She was here to end a long war with the far previous king, your great grandfather and your father’s namesake. She took me to teach me the tools of the trade, after all I was her oldest and only daughter, the heir. See, while Atlantis is ruled by kings, Athens is ruled by queens. Getting it so far?”

I nodded, and she continued.

“The negotiations were going well enough, my mother hated it here, hated him, but they had their common ground. I loved it here, the library and the beach and the little superstitions all around. Some of those trinkets have been up for centuries, you know.”

Annabeth’s voice had taken on a wistful tone, and I smiled. It’s the first time I’d ever heard her talk like this. I liked it. 

“I was out here, in this place, when it happened. One minute I was playing, and the next I was lying in bed. I’d collapsed in the garden with a fever. They called a young druid named Lee, from those islands between here and my homeland. In fact, I think Leland and Michael are related. If you can hold a conversation with the kid, I’d ask him. 

Either way, Leland couldn’t do a thing. No one could. After a while, I just slipped off into oblivion, and then I woke up tied to that tree.”

She pointed a delicate finger at the olive tree. The wistful tone had given way to the usual matter-of-fact way she liked to talk. Annabeth waved her hand to get my attention again.

“Leland kept coming, I guess to check up on me, or maybe to check on his spell. After him it was Will, and now it’s Michael. Remember Percy, that the people from that place are fairly self sufficient, they never barter with you for anything, they barely trade, and they never complain about anything that happens regardless of always being in the middle of it. So why do you think they keep sending over the one person every year?”

As my mouth formed and ‘O’ she nodded, satisfied with making me think a little more today. That was always her goal, to get me to think. I was still there, thinking, when she slipped off back to her tree.


	5. Chapter 5

It was always the same.  
‘Have you met my daughter.’   
‘My son fought in the war you know, he’s _very_ capable.’   
‘Well you two look rather well together don’t you.’  
Don’t get me wrong, I like people, they’re pretty and hot and (most of them) are nice enough. But, and don’t take this badly, I just don’t want to deal with it right now. Relationships are fine and all, I just don’t like anyone at court. 

I was currently avoiding all of this and dinner by hiding in the library with a book about mythology from an archipelago I could never learn to pronounce. Michael, a common face in court from said group of islands was teaching me, using a sort of hybrid tongue we could both understand. 

Three years ago when Annabeth told me to ask him about Leland, I did. After that we really hit it off, and as it turns out, Lee actually was related to him by being a great uncle. Michael pointed to a family tree to elaborate on what he was talking about, and the sleeves on his robes drew up, showing off some of the inked tattoos in red and dark blue. Those, from what I could ever actually see of him, were all over Michael’s body. I was too scared to ask why he had them.

Another occupant of the library was Malcolm, the current second in command of Athens. I understood now why dad was so uncomfortable when he had visited five years before. I was finding it hard to be in the same room as him too. This was making things hard for me, because he’d taken permanent residence of my usual hiding spot.

Where Malcolm was tall and curly hair and grey eyed, I could see the resemblance to Annabeth. He also like to bury himself in books the same way she did. The similarities stopped there, though. Where Annabeth was poised and confident, Malcolm was nervous and sort of frail. Where Annabeth looked healthy, Malcolm looked sickly pale. His hands shook sometimes and he had a bit of a stutter. He could argue like no other though, once you got him riled up.

Michael snapped his fingers under my nose because I’d been staring, I guess he forgot the words to tell me I was being rude. In brown robes and the hood he tried to keep over his face (the robes were too big and restricted his eyesight) he looked more like he was from the spirit world than an island less that sixty miles away from us. All the same he was short, brutish, impatient, and could debate you into tears and frustration when he set his mind to it. Despite not being able to understand half of what he said most of the time, I liked him. 

I glanced out the window and noticed that the sun was going down. Michael did too apparently, because he took the book and waved me off. Most of the regular people in the castle knew my routine by now. Get up earlier than anyone else, go riding, read, swordplay, and then spend sunset in the garden. As I walked out of the outside library door, I had a feeling Malcolm knew exactly what I was going to do. He even gave me an uncomfortable prickle on the back of my neck when he looked up from his book.

Annabeth was waiting as usual at the base of the tree, this time with a set of maps spread out in her lap. She was beautiful, with the last rays of the sun surrounding her with a red halo, dying her blonde curls orange. Her fingers were elegant even while turning pages on old books. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth with that thoughtful look in her eyes and I couldn’t help but smile. She makes me feel like I’m home. 

Annabeth looked up and smiled at me and I felt my face burning red as flames. She just smirked at me as I sat next to her. We worked well together, I guess. I would talk and she would listen, she would gush about something she’d read about and I’d listen back. Today she would occasionally hum as I complained (for the third day in a row) about the new trend of people trying to set me up with their kids. She laughed at my expense while I told her the story of how an old friend of my dad’s tricked his catamite into courting me for him. Gross.

“All the same,” Annabeth said, giggling, “you’ll have to choose someone eventually. You can’t rule lonely, you know.”

I shrugged, smiling at her.

“Why not? I have you don’t I?”

She frowned, suddenly troubled. The good mood evaporated. She turned away.

“I don’t count Perseus, you know that.”

Uh oh, that was bad. The full name meant that she was about to explain something unpleasant. 

“What, scared the people wouldn’t want to be ruled by a tree?” I tried to joke, but it sounded halfhearted even to me. 

Annabeth huffed out a sigh, shaking her head. Then she pegged me with that look that froze me to the bone. Guess I’m in trouble. I barely felt it when she pressed her hand on top of mine. 

“A spouse, Perseus. You’ll need one soon. You can’t wait for too many years, and especially not for me.”

She pecked my lips in a chaste kiss and then she was gone.


	6. Twenty Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

I was early. It was dark and cold with the winter air coming off of the beach below. I wrapped my blue wool coat tighter around myself and shivered, regretting that I didn’t grab something thicker, or another coat. Annabeth wouldn’t be out of her tree for another hour, but I needed time to think before we talked. The last weeks events have been spinning around my head all night. I haven’t gotten much sleep and it shows too, there are bruises under my eyes and I’m paler than the marble of the throne room floor.

My birthday ball was last week, and I finally met someone. Annabeth had been telling me for _years_ that I needed to find a wife before she was picked for me. I just didn’t think it would be so soon, you know? It’s..one hell of a birthday present I guess. 

 

_The white marble of the throne room floor was covered with couples waiting to move on to the ballroom. It was still early in the night, the sun wasn’t even all of the way down. I was wearing dark blue trousers pulled a little too tight around my bum, an undershirt that dipped just a bit too low in the collar, a lighter blue corset with waves and swirls embroidered all over it, and a sea blue overcoat with dark green lace around the bottom and cuffs. All of it was to ‘show off your assets’, as the seamstress said. Around my neck was a green cord with a bluish grey conch shell hanging from it, my birthday present from Annabeth. She’d kissed me on the cheek for luck._

_A long line of party goers and hopeful suitors had paraded past the three thrones on the dias giving blessings and small gifts. My dad was in the center one, the tallest and most decorated in silver overlay and soft blue satin cushions. Next to him on the right I sat in the second shortest, it was plain dark oak with dark blue pillows. On his other side was the chair meant for the matriarch, a shorter version of Dad’s, and it sat empty. I’d never got the chance to see mom in it. On my other side sat Tyson in a shorter version of my chair, looking bored and fidgety. I felt the same._

_When the last of the guests gave their blessings, Dad announced it time for the feast. I don’t remember much of it. I was too nervous for what came next. This was my final courting year, my last chance to find someone to rule by my side. After this the duty would pass to Tyson. My stomach was flip-flopping too much to eat. Dad seemed to understand, because he didn’t question it._

_Next the procession moved to the ballroom, leaving the mess behind for the servants to clean. The stone rafters were strung with light blue ribbon for the event. More servants circulated between the couples with sweet wine and small sweets. Much of the couples were older dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, older ambassadors from other countries here to celebrate my first year of manhood. Among them were knots of suitors too cowardly, or nervous, to approach me right away._

_I moved around nervously myself, until she came up to me. Her name was Calypso. We’d met several times, I knew her well enough. Her caramel hair was curled and pinned up for the occasion, her light brown skin mostly covered by sky blue silk gloves and a long light blue gown that settled against her curves. She smiled, took my hand and gave me a playful twirl._

_“Hey, long time no see,” I said with a smile on my face. It was the first time I showed any emotion besides slight fear the whole night._

_“Sorry, I don’t take to sailing well.” She replied. I chuckled and lightly dipped her. She stood and twirled._

_“Are you staying long then?” I set my hand on her hip, she set hers on my shoulder, and we joined the waltz so we didn’t run anyone over._

_“My father sure hopes so. I couldn’t care less one way or the other.”_

_I had to laugh at that, Calypso never /did/ have much tact. We got to talking then. It started with her dad, then my dad and Tyson, then on to the trip and other things._

_By the end of the night she was the only one on my dance card besides some poor widow from the country to the south and Jason, who stole me to make a show as always. He and his maiden sister were from Olympos to the east, and he never could go long without making a scene. Jason liked the attention more than the catamite that was always sitting in his father’s lap._

_When Calypso stole me back from him, it was the last dance. I escaped the crowd in the ballroom by walking her back to her quarters. She pecked me on the chin then slammed the door in my face._

We’ve been talking and getting to know each other for the past week, and then yesterday morning a letter appeared on my bedside table. By last night the engagement was already being talked about. I guess I should have talked to her about it, but I panicked. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know we’re barely friends but would you like to be tied to me for the rest of our lives?’ or ‘How about we get married, since we’re obviously the best options for each other’. I couldn’t think of anything good to say besides ‘let me think about it please!’.

When Annabeth slipped out of her tree I almost shrieked in surprise. She furrowed her brow in that ‘worried mother’ look. She already knew something was wrong and I hadn’t even told her. Now I /really/ felt like crying like a kid. 

Her hands were cool against my cheeks. She turned me so that I was looking down at her, right into her eyes.

“Tell me what happened, I’ll see if I can help.”

Good old Annabeth, always the cool head. It’s no wonder i love her so much more than I should. 

“I found her and I don’t know what happens next.”

She blinked, once, twice, three times before answering. 

“Your queen?”

“It seems so, I guess. At least, she’s the one everyone /wants/ to be my queen, I’m not sure really....”

She pressed a finger against my lips to stop the word vomit.

“What’s your problem, Perseus? What’s wrong with her?”

I shake my head, I didn’t have words for what the problem was. The ache wasn’t something I could describe. Annabeth wouldn’t take that as an answer, though. She frowned sadly and took her hands away.

“Tell me, please. Use your mouth like you so love to do.”

The tears finally start to roll down my face, but neither of us moves to wipe them away. I let out a ragged breath, and I think that’s when it hits her. She finally realizes that I never let her go. Yet, Annabeth still persists.

“I need to hear you say it Percy, and you need to say it too, or you’ll never get past this.”

How would you know?

“She’s great, Annie, she really is but…”

Annabeth smiles sadly, and a single tear slides down her cheek. 

“But she’s not me?”

I shake my head, a smile forming through the tears. She was perceptive as always.

“No, she isn’t you at all.”

She sighs sadly, dropping a veil over her face so that I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Percy, do you like her?”

I nod, knowing where this is going.

“Could you spend the rest of your life with her if you needed to?”

I nod again, my heart clenching.

“Is she your friend, someone you would take care of forever and no matter what?”

“Of course.” My voice was thick and choked.

“She better be, or else we’ll be having /words/, understand?”

Part of my heart shuts down then and forever. This was the closing of a door that could never be opened again. 

“Is this your blessing, Annie?”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“I’m proud of you, Percy. So very proud.”

Then why do I feel that your heart is breaking like mine?


	7. Twenty One Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

The ceremony was beautiful. It was held on the front lawn of the castle on one of the few cloudless days of the year. Calypso and I were both in clothes as white as could be. She had on a charm bracelet with blue stone as her something blue, and I was wearing Annabeth’s necklace. Her parents cried, my dad never stopped smiling, and Tyson danced with Ella the whole day and night through. Jason caught the bouquet on accident and made his usual big show while Thalia stood as far away from him as possible.

All through it all, it was hard to stop crying. Everyone showed up but the one person I so desperately wanted to be there. Calypso and I shared a few dances but were more wary of each other than usual. Everyone who had gone through this before kept making comments about the honeymoon we decided not to take. Calypso hate traveling and so did I. This wouldn’t be so bad if there weren’t giggles hid behind hands about commensurating the marriage and ‘making it official’ in Dad’s words from last night. 

Getting back to our quarters was a relief in itself, we were both blushing like lobsters. In the end we were both too nervous to do anything, and honestly went to sleep on opposite sides of the bed. That awkwardness wouldn’t go away for a long, _long_ time.


	8. Thirty Two Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shorter chapters make me regret my formatting choices

Calypso was pregnant with our second and last child. Annabeth was sitting in the edge of the pond, everything below her shoulders covered by water. Her hair fanned out and concealed the rest. I was sitting on the rocks around the edge with my legs under the surface up to my knees, splashing her every once in awhile. She’d splash me back while I continued to talk about my day. We’d been sitting there for a while and the sun was almost gone. 

“So anyway, Jason starts waving his sword and ranting about them, and the whole time Michael is just standing off to the side, waiting for the perfect moment to mouth off his perfect comeback…”

“Percy?”

Oh, I knew that tone. That meant that the pins and needles feeling was getting too bad. She had to leave.

“Yeah, I know. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”


	9. Forty Eight Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAD FORMATTING BAD FORMATTING AHHHHHHH

Dad’s been gone for a long time now, but the throne doesn’t get any easier to sit in. My visits to Annabeth had become less like talking to a friend and more like they were originally supposed to be. A month ago I got a letter from Malcolm asking about her, and I answered as best as I could. Annabeth refused to write to him herself. 

My oldest was fourteen, my youngest eleven. Tyson was off leading our navy. Calypso is far healthier than I am. My bones are beginning to creak and I have trouble getting up in the mornings. Annabeth reminds me every once in awhile that aging doesn’t get any easier, but I already know that. I think she’s worried about me. She shouldn’t, I’ll be fine.


	10. Sixty Four Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bad formatting is almost over I promise

This is it, this is my last day. I can feel it in my bones. Michael doubted me at first, but after a bit of arguing even he could see that the end was near. After a bit of convincing, he helped me down to the library garden for the last time. 

A few months ago, I’d started asking Michael about things. Things like how his uncle Lee tied a dying Annabeth to an olive tree. At first he protested, said he wouldn’t do it if I threatened to kill him. But he is one of my oldest friends, and after a few weeks he consented and began to work on it. Now is the time to see if he could actually do it.

My skin is wrinkled and my bones knobbly compared to Michael, who looks like he hasn’t aged a day over twenty or grew a day over 13. I’m certainly not a pleasant sight to look at as he lowers my naked body into the water of the pond. I can distantly hear him chanting, vaguely feel my body begin to change. I think I may be breathing the water, my probably not. I just hope my old friend doesn’t get charged with murder and treason if this doesn’t work…


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth

At first, I was angry. So incredibly, unspeakably enraged beyond all belief. The idiot left behind his family, his wife, his whole _afterlife_ because of me. Then, I realized, that he did it all for me. How could I stay angry after that?

He’s as beautiful as he was at nineteen. Three days ago he died, and now he’s surfacing from the pond looking like a siren. His raven black hair was slicked down to his scalp and dripping down his neck. His skin was so pale, yet it shone from the light reflecting off the pond like it was covered in scales. Hands and feet webbed, body hair gone, and gills flapping on either side of his ribs. My stupid friend had turned himself into a nymph. All for me.

For the first three days Michael came day and night to see if his spell worked. For the first three days, all Perseus did was sleep and change. I’d spend my two hours of the day watching his skin smooth and his body reform. It was fascinating, to say the least. He’d deaged. One day I’ll have to flag down that druid and get him to explain the process to me.

Right now though, I was more concerned with the Percy floating in the pool, not waking up. He looked so peaceful, with his hair fanning around his face and his features so empty. His mouth was open and the barest trickle of water was leaking out. Who knew water creatures could drool? Or snore little puppy snores? Who knew a king could?

I traced his sleeping face with my fingers, still not believing that he’d chosen this. Chosen to spend the rest of eternity with me over anyone else. He’d made it so that I can never be alone again. Well, actually, his moron friend technically made it so, but that doesn’t matter. He was here and he loved me as much as I loved him. That’s all that matters.

His beautiful eyes fluttered open and he smiled sleepily at me. They were sea green as they’d always been, but now they glowed with gentle power. He reached up and gently touched my face with his fingertips. Then Percy laughed, mouth wide and eyes crinkled at the corners. I laughed with him. 

“So, how do I look?” He asked, standing up and giving a twirl.

I shrugged at him. “Just like you did before you married.”

He nodded satisfied. Then he asked “And what do you think of...all this?” Percy gestured to himself with his hands.

I tapped my finger on my chin, pretending to think hard about my answer.

“Not bad, but did you know that you drool in your sleep?”

**Author's Note:**

> I formatted it so that the chapters are a bit like check-points instead of uniform content chunks. Then I hated it but I'm not gonna put myself through reformatting all over again!


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